lipsmoke
by chokecherries
Summary: They say diamonds are a girl's best friend, but then again, so is Kevlar and poison. Or, the troubles of being a teenage girl and student at one of the most prestigious institutions in the world, which also happens to be an academy that teaches girls how to be spies.—natsu/lucy
1. Chapter 1

**notes:** kind of a rewrite of 'all hail the heartbreaker' or something. which hasn't been deleted, but whatever. this is unedited for now.  
><strong>disclaimer: <strong>own nothing**  
><strong>**more notes: **there is a poll on my profile where you can vote for what story you'd like to be updated next, just so you know. **  
>summary: <strong>(spy school!au) They say diamonds are a girl's best friend, but then again, so is Kevlar and poison. Or, the troubles of being a teenage girl and student at one of the most prestigious institutions in the world, which also happens to be an academy that trains girls to be spies. (nalu, gruvia, jerza, gale, possible others)

.::.**  
><strong>**part i**

.

(_cause baby now we got bad blood_)

—

Someone is screaming.

That's the first thing that registers in Lucy's mind as she comes to—wait, comes to? When did she ever fall asleep in the first place?

Well, anyway, there's a hella ton of high-pitched screeches of terror coming from _everywhere, _her head is killing her, and her throat feels dryer than a desert during a sandstorm. Seriously, she feels like she has the worst hangover in the history of all epic hangovers. Not that she actually _knows_ what a hangover is like, because she doesn't really drink—that's Cana's thing, after all—but her brunette friend has filled her in on the unpleasant after-effects of consuming too much alcohol.

There isn't an abundant amount of light in the room, but the small rays that leak through the cracks blind her and only serve to make her headache worse. Her eyes burn, there's this crazy strong metallic taste in her mouth, and honestly, her entire body feels like it's been run over by a train, revived, and then tossed off a twenty-story building.

_Unpleasant_ doesn't even begin to cover it.

"Ugh."

Her eyelids flutter and she groans loudly, but not loud enough to drown out the screaming. Or even be heard over the screaming, most likely. All that racket isn't really doing her any favors either, considering her legendary hangover and massive headache.

Lucy squints and licks her cracked lips, noticing for the first time that she's not alone. Which probably should have been obvious from the screaming, but she's not exactly at her finest right now. So, she's not by herself, as there are, in fact, probably twenty other girls with her. And only a third of them are doing the screaming.

Well whatever. The combined sound is something awful that bounces off the walls and lingers, whispering insecurities in her ear and planting doubts in her mind. Some of the other girls have been crying—or still are—and a few of them are trying to comfort the distraught ones. They all seem to be dressed in formal wear, and she appears to be the only one that's been out of it.

Everything is kind of hazy, and she can't remember what she was doing before she most likely passed out. Drinking, apparently. A ridiculous amount of drinking. Which still doesn't make sense, because she's never touched hard liquor in her life, and there's no way wine could make a person feel like this.

Something bad must have happened and it drove her to do…to do whatever she did earlier. Wonderful, because now she's going to have to face the problem and it's probably going to be worse than it was before.

She's thrilled, really.

The girl next to her, who looks to be in her early twenties, glances down as Lucy stirs. She's by her side in an instant, patting her cheeks gently and speaking quietly. "Are you alright?"

"Not really," she slurs in response. Somehow she feels she's had worse. The girl helps her sit up—slowly, because Lucy feels like she's going to vomit, even though her stomach is empty. "'here are we?"

Her tongue feels too thick and like it's stuck to the roof of her mouth.

The girl shakes her head as the screaming finally quiets down. "I-I don't know. We were—we just _woke up here _but you wouldn't open your eyes and you weren't responding. Some of the girls were afraid that you were dead, but you had a pulse. I checked. It was slow and uneven, but it was there," she swallows and tries to smile. "I'm training to be a nurse."

Lucy manages to nod weakly and look around a little. The room they're in is dank and smells like must and salty water. Which is weird and nasty. It's also dark and cold, and something tells her that they are not in a five-star hotel, or even a seedy one. Everything looks like it's made of metal, and it's unsettling. "What happened?"

The '_to me_' is left unsaid, but it's still there.

"I," the nurse-to-be hesitates, "we were all—"

Suddenly the door bangs against the wall, causing the whole room to vibrate. The screaming starts again, as the girls all huddle back in the corner and as far away from the two bulky men walking into the room as possible. But they ignore the terrified girls and instead approach Lucy and the girl still beside her.

"Wait," the girl holds out her hands, voice desperate, "please, what are you doing—"

They each take hold of one of Lucy's arms and lift her up, so that her feet still drag on the ground but she'll be easier to move. It's not like she can walk anyway, what with her body still limp. Her limbs feel like boiled noodles. The girl is still pleading with them.

"She's _hurt_, please, just leave her—"

As she's dragged out of what is presumably hell, she sends the girl an It's Okay, I'll Be Fine look and a small smile. The door slams closed behind them, and the screaming slowly subsides again. Her captors aren't the handsomest men she's ever encountered in her life, she muses, what with their ugly sneers and beady eyes, but they _are _strong and she feels like a broken doll.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head back.

.

.

.

Headmistress Porlyusica narrows her eyes at the four of them. The older woman has an extremely intimidating stare that their fellow sisters have nicknamed the Penance Stare, because when you're on the receiving end of that look, you'll confess to a murder you didn't even commit. Or something like that. It's been said that these are the eyes that easily seduced the worst of men and then bore through their very souls. Well, that's just gossip spread by a school full of rumor-starved teenage girls, but no one doubts it.

These crimson orbs are meant to inspire fear, to lull you into a false sense of security and then end your life when you're least expecting it.

Erza has almost mastered this particular skill, and it is rightfully terrifying.

"Girls," Porlyusica begins in a slow, patient tone—which is never good, because she's usually irritable and moodily cross, and one of the first things a spy learns is to watch for changes in behavior; that they're dangerous, "a little bird informed me that you've been sighted sneaking into your rooms late at night. And someone's been messing with the cameras' frequencies on your floor."

_More like a little angel with a fucking gigantic mouth, _Lucy thinks in disdain.

"If I were to take a look at them, would I be seeing loop footage?"

Porlyusica watches them carefully, looking for any sign of recognition, any slip of emotion.

They don't show any and keep their expressions schooled and straight.

Impressive, and she _might _be convinced that it wasn't them if she hadn't already known the truth.

Because even if she were to look at the security footage, it would be difficult to tell the difference between a live feed and a loop one. Levy McGarden was a pro, after all, and excelled in anything that involved technology and computers. She was a prodigy—one that usually didn't leave any evidence of tampering.

"Ma'am, with all due respect," Lucy begins, "Angel hates our guts—well, _mine anyway_—and would do anything within her power to sabotage us. She's a bitch like that."

Porlyusica almost wants to smile, because Lucy's always been a character. A sometimes painfully honest characters despite passing her classes in the art of deceiving and manipulation with flying colors. "Lucy Heartfilia, you mustn't speak of your sisters like that."

She decides to ignore the dejected mutter of, '_but it's true_' and returns to the subject at hand. "Regardless of any feeling of…_disdain _that Miss Sorano may harbor for you girls, some of your other sisters have reported that they've seen you as well. Now, would you care to explain _why _you're sneaking out in the middle of the night and the cameras have been tampered with?"

That does it, then, and they give in. Lucy huffs and crosses her arms before sliding down in her seat, a pout on her face. "Some _sisters_," she mumbles. "Whatever happened to the Girl Code? The Sister Code? The one where you _cover for your sisters and not tattle on them like little brats._"

Juvia fidgets something awful when she's nervous and not hiding it, and she bites her lip and twiddles her fingers, shifting in her seat. Levy lets out the loudest sigh Porlyusica thinks she's ever heard from the small girl, her head tilting backwards and smacking against the wall. Erza remains as stoic as ever, but tugs on the end of her uniform skirt, a sure sign that's she uncomfortable.

"Okay," Lucy relents, "so we snuck out to practice our skills. What's so bad about that, Ma'am?"

Porlyusica intertwines her fingers and rests her hands on her desktop. "And you felt the need to borrow a van to practice the combat skills you've been polishing up lately?"

The blonde's face falls a bit more. "We may have also returned a Baroque-era painting to the family who originally owned it?"

"Ah, there it is," Porlyusica nods. "Don't tell me you broke into the Magnolia Museum of Art."

All four girls' expressions turn sheepish, and Porlyusica sighs. For the fortieth time that day. "Girls, it is quite the notable cause to undertake such a venture, _but_ you do not have the clearance to infiltrate a place like that. _Or _steal a priceless piece of art."

Lucy shrugs weakly. "What can we say? Juvia really likes to do research and art is her hobby."

"Besides," Levy puts in, "it's not 'priceless' _per say_, it's only worth like twenty-two mil."

Porlyusica stares at her. Twenty-two million dismissed so easily, _good heavens. _These girls really were something.

"And Juvia tailed that curator guy around for like two weeks before we pulled this job," Lucy says, casting a glance at the quiet girl. "He's cheating on his wife, by the way. But, the insurance company will pay most of the damages—I feel for them, really—and he'll be fine. He's a greedy little two-timing jerk. He'll be fine, and the family will be happy. It's a win-win if you exclude the insurance company."

Porlyusica turns to Erza. Erza, the by-the-book, no nonsense, lawful student that can always be counted on to make rational decisions and stay out of trouble. "And you willingly went along with this?"

The scarlet-haired girl's fidgeting with the edge of her skirt worsens. Porlyusica groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. Breathe. In, out. "_You do not have that type of clearance yet_."

"Please tell me," she starts in a strained voice, "that you haven't been up to anything else."

Juvia presses the tips of her forefingers together. "Well um, we may or may not have been tracking The Prominence—"

"_The Prominence_?! You've been working on—"

Lucy throws her hands up. "Just tracking, we swear!"

"Do you girls know what could happen? Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out about this? That you could hide it and get away with it? If so," Porlyusica gives them a Look, "you are seriously mistaken."

Her words make the girls deflate considerably, and it gets very quiet in the Headmistress' office for a while. Finally, Erza speaks up.

"All we wanted was a chance to prove ourselves. We thought that if we could successfully pull off a heist—"

"_Don't call it _that," Lucy hisses.

"—without any help from the school and catch The Prominence on our own, then maybe we could be considered for Class Four."

As soon as she's done speaking, she averts her gaze to the floor. Porlyusica blinks, and sighs. "This is about _that? _Well, that explains most of it, I suppose. You four are usually so sensible and rational, pulling stunts like these is out of the ordinary for you. I was wondering what could have driven you to do such a thing."

They don't meet her eyes, and she takes the time to really look at them. "Girls, you _know _that you're not allowed on solo missions—_especially _ones that haven't been cleared by either me or one of the teachers. What if you'd been caught by one of the security guards at the museum? Or one of The Prominence's men? What then?"

"But we _weren't _caught," Lucy says, then mutters, "at least not by those mentioned."

Levy nods. "We're at the top of our classes, Miss Porlyusica. We're ready for this! We've been ready for this for at least two semesters now, we can do this. We just haven't passed yet."

"_Exactly_," Porlyusica nods. "You haven't passed and that is exactly my point. You're still impulsive, sometimes you make irrational decisions, and _lately _you've been blatantly _ignoring orders _by sneaking out late at night. Which, though I'm sure there's no need to elaborate, is against curfew rules _and _the reasons you've been doing it are against the rules as well. You're not ready for the field."

"But what about that time Levy disabled the laser system that almost killed five of the Class Four operatives? Or when Juvia tracked down that serial murderer? They were ten and twelve when they did those things," Lucy points out. "We're _good_ at what we do, Ma'am, that's not something you can ignore."

Porlyusica shakes her head. "I was with them then. It's different out in the field. You four are out on your own for most of the operation and backup doesn't always come right away if you need help. You have to do things on your own."

"With all due respect Ma'am," Juvia says, "that's what we've been doing."

"Against orders," Porlyusica repeats, and motions toward the door. "Good isn't perfect, you could get seriously hurt. You're dismissed for the day, girls."

They stand, straightening skirts and biting back crushing disappointment, and head to the door. Lucy pauses, hand on the knob, and decides to say one last thing.

"Nobody's _perfect_, Ma'am. Even the best spies make mistakes, and yes, they could be killed. But they still go on anyway, don't they? We're not normal spies, Miss Porlyusica."

She turns the knob and is about to take a step out of the door when Porylusica sighs again.

"Normally, I should stick you three with stable duty or have you wash all the chalkboards after school and clean the showers for your actions. But," she says, and they hardly dare to hope, "_but _you make a fine point, Miss Heartfilia. I'll make an exception this one time, under one condition."

They all hold their breath.

"You bring me some salted taffy back from Hargeon. Nobody else makes it like they do there."

.

.

.

**part** **ii**

(_i'm the baddest baby in the atmosphere__)_

_—_

**SUMMARY OF SURVEILLANCE **

**OPERATIVES: **Erza Scarlet, Class Three; Lucy Heartfilia, Class Three; Levy McGarden, Class Three; Juvia Lockser, Class Three.

Because Headmistress Porlyusica is always ever the gracious leader of Fairy Tail Academy, she has granted us the permission to undertake this case, just in case anyone is wondering or snooping in places they shouldn't be.

Operative Levy M. hacked into the academy's database (oops?) and pulled up any and all information on Michael Bora, aka The Prominence. There is surprisingly little known about the criminal, and so in response Operative Juvia L. tracked the suspect and trailed him for the time period of two weeks.

A summary of the information obtained by Operative Juvia L. is as follows.

The Subject: Michael Bora, twenty-seven, goes by the alias 'The Prominence', residence unknown but is staying at the Crown Inn in Hargeon Port. Subject suspected of kidnapping young women before proceeding to auction them off to the highest bidder. (Here Operative Lucy H. would like to contribute, "What a complete scumbag.")

Known Contacts: Operative Juvia L. intercepted several calls to and from the Subject's cell phone, and has identified at least seven different associates, none of which go by their real names. Typical.

Operatives were unable to fool everyone, unfortunately, which resulted in them getting the scolding of the century and Operative Erza S.'s cake privileges being revoked. Also, the Operatives were sentenced to two weeks of not leaving the grounds except for missions, and a six pm curfew.

.

.

.

This is how it goes.

Erza is the leader of their extremely competent team. She's the weapons specialist, and can expertly wield around thirty different weapons, and that's _excluding _the ones that shoot bullets. She doesn't really prefer bullets—that's more of Lucy and Juvia's thing—but instead likes the hands-on approach. Literally. She also has a particularly soft spot for blades, if her extensive sword collection and the three daggers and army knives on her person at all times are anything to go by.

She gives the commands and guides the team, and naturally beats the bad guys into next week. She's really good at that.

Lucy is the honeypot, the pretty distraction. She's the girl next door with looks that can literally kill. Your caring, sweet-smiling girlfriend who knows how to French kiss like an expert and breaks your legs when you're least expecting it. She knows over a hundred ways to potentially kill a man. Sometimes how to kill and person without actually killing them, bring them back to life, only to kill him again. She knows poison, deception, and manipulation.

And yet she's usually stuck as the blonde trophy girl with the killer curves. They claim it's because of her pretty, winning smile—it's infectious, or so she's heard—and peppy attitude.

Levy is the Girl Wednesday, of sorts. She knows computers and programming like she knows Shakespeare—which she totally does, by the way, because she's also a major bookworm. She stays on the sidelines most of the time, but she could ruin a person's life in a few simple keystrokes. She sets up their comm links and cameras (the special connection she's set up is her pride and joy), and basically runs the whole show from behind the scenes.

Last but not least, there is Juvia. Her field of expertise is reconnaissance and uncovering secrets that others usually like to keep buried. Of course, Levy can do that too, but Juvia is different. She's quiet and deadly, and blends in with the shadows enough to actually be one. She's handy with a camera and is proficient in twenty different languages. She also has sniper training, and never miss her target.

In essence, they are not normal teenage girls.

They are exemplary and exceptional.

.

.

.

"What a pretentious name for an asshole that kidnaps unsuspecting young girls and then sells them to the highest bidder," Lucy huffs as she examines her nails. They're painted a deep burgundy, the same color as Flare's favorite cure for what ails—a glass of Merlot.

Juvia is cleaning her rifle, but spares her friend a glance. "I'll feel safer just knowing this guy is off the streets."

Erza steps back and gives the blonde a once-over, taking in Lucy's dark dress with a dangerous slit up the side, a deep-cut neckline, and impossibly high burgundy stilettos to match. Her lips are stained a dark red, and her eyes are smoky. The perfect femme fatale, Juvia thinks to herself as Erza nods to herself. Another job well done.

Their leader has some weird thing with clothes—well, maybe they all do, they _are _teenage girls after all. She has a keen fashion sense and likes to double-check any disguises or outfits before an op. Everything has to be perfect.

Levy leans back in her rolling chair and claps her hands, letting out a low whistle. "Nice job, Erza. You look gorgeous, Lu."

The blonde smiles coyly and brushes the ends of her hair with the back of her hand. "I know. I'm hot."

They laugh, but then Erza puts a hand on her shoulder. "You remember the plan, right Lucy?"

"Of course. Slip in, charm the bastard out of his wits, subdue him, and then call it in. We've gone over this a hundred times," she taps her right temple, "I have it memorized."

Erza nods. "I know, I know. It just—it _has _to be _perfect_. This is our in, we have to take it. And please Lucy, be _careful. _The Prominence is a dangerous man, and you could get hurt."

Lucy winks and taps her dark red lips with her forefinger. "Don't you worry, doll. I've got this. Class Four, here we come!"

.

.

.

In hindsight, she had not really expected him to single her out. That was _her _job, but he was persuasive and coy. The party was on his yacht, and he led her to a private room, away from the guests. They talked and she smiled and played along, telling him she was hoping to study art in Paris one day, that she thought he was perfectly charming and it was very generous of him to throw such a lavish event. He laughs and claims it was nothing, pouring her a glass of wine while she bats her lashes.

It's darker than her finger nails.

She's technically still underage, spy or no spy, and is trying to put off taking a sip as long as possible. He starts to show signs of impatience—it's the little things, like the way the muscle over his brow ticks, or the clench of his jaw—but he's very good at hiding it. But she's better at reading the signs. He starts to try and coerce her into taking a sip—"just _one _won't hurt, right?"—and she's about to take a small one just to appease him when someone starts screaming outside.

And in that moment, she knows how he manages to catch all his victims. Particularly when there's a sudden lull in conversation out there, and she throws the glass to the floor. It shatters and she snarls at the startled man across from her.

The comms are down for some reason, and all she can hear in her ear is static. That's not good—this wasn't part of the plan.

"You _really _think I wouldn't _notice _that you poisoned the booze at this party? I may be blonde, but I'm not _that _blonde. It's probably not harmful, am I right? A small dose of it and bam, the girls are out for the count and ripe for the picking. Or kidnapping and selling."

He doesn't even stand like she does. "You're not one of my usual guests then, I take it? Shame, you would have made a pretty artist. I could have taken you to Paris."

"Yeah _right_," she shoots back, mind switching over to Plan B because this wasn't supposed to happen.

Her fingers itch to reach for the .45 hidden under her dress. She doesn't, not yet. "I'm not letting you get away this time, or take those girls."

Michael sends her a horrible smile before she feels something being stabbed into her neck.

.

.

.

Levy frowns at the screen as the camera feed turns to static. She hasn't heard from Lucy in a while, and has spent the past ten minutes watching a girl stuff her face with shrimp puffs. And now she's hungry. "Miss Universe, I just lost visual from your camera, what's your status?"

Nothing.

"Miss Universe, if you're eating anything at the moment then _swallow already _and report."

Dead silence.

"_Miss Universe what are you doing._"

So she switches tactics, and decides to check in with Erza and Juvia. "Fairy Queen, Rainmaker, have you talked to Miss Universe?"

They also haven't heard anything from Lucy in at least half an hour. The last time Juvia saw her, she was headed into a room with their target.

And that's when the bodies start dropping and girls start screaming—the guests are all women, the guy _clearly _has class. Lucy is still nowhere to be seen, and Levy gets a sick feeling in her stomach.

_Damn it. _

.

.

.

Lucy takes back what she said earlier.

This is hell.

Currently, she's tied to a chair, her neck is killing her—they _stabbed her with a fucking needle to drug her, the bastards_—and she must've collapsed into the broken shards of what used to be her wine glass earlier because she's covered in cuts. And her head still hurts. It's a bitch, really.

Michael grins at her, and she's more than ready to rip him a new one. "You're going to make me a rich man, you know."

"You're _already _rich, you sorry excuse for a human being," she spits back.

He is unaffected, apparently. "Well, a richer man, then."

She sits there and stares at him with narrowed eyes. She's cold, she's tired, she's hungry, she's hurt, and her wicked awesome shoes are missing. Erza is going to throw a _fit. _

"You _fucking drugged me_," she accuses, tone dripping with venom.

He shrugs as he steps closer to her. "You should've been faster."

She grins at him, then, looking up through her lashes. "You mean like _this_?"

Lucy stands and, still tied to the chair, uses the article of furniture to ram into him. The force of the blow knocks Michael off his feet with a yell, and she licks her lips. Some of his goons come running, but she's ready for them, and takes them straight on. She launches herself off the platform and executes a front flip, landing on her back and smashing the chair. She's back on her feet before they can blink, pushing off the ground with her bounds hands and feet, and sprinting towards them.

She jumps and wraps her legs around one of the men's necks before tightening them and twisting, sending him sprawling to the ground. She snaps the zip tie around her wrists with ease, ad cracks her knuckles. The rest are easily disposable, and by the time Michael makes it to his feet, she's pointing one of his own men's gun at the back of his head.

"Told you I'm not just a dumb blonde," she grins smugly, and wipes some blood leaking from her mouth on the back of her hand.

.

.

.

There's someone else outside, she notes as she guides Michael to the deck with the gun firmly pressed to his skull, and they're disposing of the other henchmen. Namely though, _it's not her girls. _Instead, he's a mess of wild rosy hair, a manic grin, and bloody fists. There's a trail of bodies and blood, and she spots a discarded—wait, is that a _flamethrower_?

She prepares herself for a fight, but when he sees her, he just nods in her direction before proceeding to suckerpunch a man in the face.

Lucy is bewildered, but decides to just leave him to continue in his destruction. Erza was supposed to let the girls out when Lucy had located the place they were being held, but she'll just have to do it herself. And she does, then after they're all off the yacht, she steps onto the deck and is immediately bombarded by her friends.

"Lucy!" Levy shrieks. "The comms were down and you weren't responding! Michael used a scrambler but he didn't turn it on until right before everybody started dropping."

Erza claps her on the shoulder, and Lucy winces. "Good job, Lucy. You did it."

Juvia cracks the man she'd been pushing along on the back of his head with the butt of her rifle, and smiles. "Congratulations, Lucy. I took out all the sentries," she sends a pointed look to the man now crumpled at her feet, "so we're in the clear."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lucy scoffs tiredly, "I couldn't have done it without all of you. We're a team. You're my girls. Now," she takes a breath, "we just have to wait for backup."

Levy grins. "I called it already, they should be here soon."

"I'm gonna need like, a large cheese pizza, two gallons of ice cream, and a night of _Sixteen Candles _and _The Princess Bride _to recover," Lucy moans, lightly touching the puncture wound in her neck.

Erza smiles. "That can probably be arranged."

.

.

.

**end notes: **this was a _beast. _in case it's unclear, codenames are as follows: lucy—miss universe, erza—fairy queen, juvia—rainmaker, and levy's wasn't mentioned yet. also, lucy kind of pulled the black widow's moves from the avengers, but.


	2. Chapter 2

**notes: **i'll just leave this here.  
><strong>more notes: <strong>i love the 1989 album so much words cannot express.

.::.  
><strong>part three: twinkle, little star<strong>**  
><strong>

.

(_it's just a matter of time until we're all found out_)

—

**SUMMARY OF SURVEILLANCE **

**OPERATIVES: **Erza Scarlet, Class Three; Lucy Heartfilia, Class Three; Levy McGarden, Class Three; Juvia Lockser, Class Three.

Following the earlier report the above mentioned, in order to take down the Subject of totally dubious reputation, Operatives undertook a (completely allowed!) undercover mission that resulted in the arrest of the human trafficker Michael Bora (excuse us, more commonly known in the scum society as _Bora the Prominence_) and his crew.

Operatives were, admittedly, not completely prepared and there were some complications that arose as a result. Operative Lucy H. was assigned to infiltrate the party being thrown by the Subject, and completed her objective but was later drugged and technically kidnapped after all the comms were interrupted by a scrambler.

However, upon waking with the worst ever headache and dry throat known to man, Operative Lucy H. was able to ascertain the exact location of the missing girls, and subdue the Subject and his men. Operative Juvia L. took out the sentries while Operative Erza S. extracted confessions from the crew and Operative Levy M. called in backup.

The operation did not exactly go according to plan, but the Operatives completed it to the best of their ability, (here Operative Lucy H. would like to add that she has no idea how half the port was destroyed) and in a timely matter.

Operative Lucy H. also noticed a person of interest during the final stages of the operation. All information collected is as follows:

Subject of interest has no affiliations with Michael Bora "The Prominence" whatsoever, and there are no records of him. Subject has ridiculously pink hair, obvious training in hand-to-hand combat, and was "probably but most definitely waving a flamethrower around at one point." Not much else is known about the Subject, a fun extra side job for Juvia L., maybe?

.

.

.

She's being followed.

Juvia is an expert on all things covert and undercover—top of her class—and she totally aced those surveillance exams last semester, okay. She can blend in anywhere despite her unusual hair color; reconnaissance is practically second-nature to her. It's ingrained into her, from years upon years of training and work, it's a part of her now.

So when she sees the guy wearing the red beanie and trailing behind her at a distance, her breath catches. He could just be someone out like her—a college student on his day off, headed to a coffee shop to catch up with friends or something. He could be completely normal, just a civilian going about his daily routine, another face in the crowd. But he isn't.

For the first ten minutes, she thought she was just being paranoid. She's almost always paranoid, because of her training, because apparently it just comes with the territory of being in this kind of work. But, no—she knows when she's being tailed, and she's definitely being tailed right now. Besides, a girl in her field can always spot someone like this. Someone like her.

Only, not like her. Because he's kind of sloppy, if she's completely honest. She doesn't ever turn around to get a good look at him because that could tip him off and then it'd be over. Whatever is going on, anyway. But she sees him from her peripheral vision, notices him in the reflection of the shop windows she passes, and he's always there—pretending to be absorbed in his phone (then again, maybe he really _is _talking to someone) and Juvia lets this information sink in.

He's obviously not an amateur because he seems to know what he's doing, but he's not as good as she is. He blends in, but stands out at the same time. This guy is noticeably following her, and she wants to know why. It's only been a week since they took on the Prominence operation, and Headmistress Porylusica hasn't let them take another job (on record or off) yet. So he can't be following her because she's been noticed tailing someone else. Not that she's ever noticed, because she isn't.

(It sounds like she has an overinflated ego, but that's not so. She's just too good at staying hidden to be noticed, and she knows this. She just has enough experience to be confident that she won't get caught, but not so much that she's overconfident.)

She casts a casual glance behind her at a billboard advertising a perfume—Lucy's favorite, in fact. The blonde is different from any girl she's ever met (they all are, if she's totally honest). Lucy likes to be different from others, to stand out from the crowd, or at least from the women and teenage girls from her background. So when she stumbled upon this particular fragrance that wasn't very popular, she decided that would be her new first glimpse. She would smell like the first day of spring, like the shy smiles you gave your crush, like good memories, like the girl in your Chemistry class that no one ever noticed, like a fresh bouquet of sweet peas and lily of the valley.

Juvia looks for her new best friend too, but he isn't there. Maybe he wasn't actually following her at all, and had just stepped into the doorway of his destination? She frowns, but shrugs and continues to walk. She has to get to the tea shop before the owner goes out to lunch. It's Saturday, so the shop isn't open past noon and she _needs _more chamomile because she's fresh out.

She sighs and adjusts the strap of her small purse—it's stitched taupe with a pretty pink bow, a gift from Lucy—and so she isn't paying attention to the sidewalk in front of her. She walks straight into something firm and feels herself tipping backward, flailing. But a hand shoots out and steadies her, saving her from colliding with the cold concrete, and she glances up to give her rescuer a thankful smile—

—which quickly drops into a look of dread when she sees it's the guy wearing the red beanie.

.

.

.

"You can be the pretty distraction next time," Lucy says mournfully around a spoonful of rocky road, "and I'll take out all the bad guys from a hidden location."

Juvia laughs and Levy pats her best friend's arm. "Ah, come on Lu, it's not that bad."

The blonde narrows her eyes and waves her spoon around in the air. "How would you know? You stay in the van; it's not your job to charm sleazy men out of their minds. You've never had a _needle stabbed into your neck by some overenthusiastic, vicarious bastard_."

"So it's the drugging part that bothers you most," Erza smiles and turns on the television in their room.

Lucy shakes her head. "No, it's the part where they were used such an awful method of putting me under. Couldn't even fight me like a man," she huffs, "so instead they hid behind a dirty method of knocking someone out. Cowards. I feel seriously violated."

"I have pizza?" Juvia offers, and the girl instantly brightens.

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When she's not wearing bold red lipstick and dangerously high heels, or cracking heads and lacing wine with poison, Lucy likes to be normal. Well, as normal as possible, all things considering. There's an old bookstore tucked away in one of the quainter corners of Magnolia—and it's kind of hard to differentiate, okay, because the whole city is pretty strange—that is her favorite. She likes to frequent it on Mondays and Thursdays when not in class or working.

And almost every time she goes, she sees the same boy. Well, not boy per say—more like young man? He's taller than her with wild blue hair and a wicked red facial tattoo. Which she cringes at every time she sees because _hello, a_ _facial tattoo are you for real_? That had to be painful, and she's always been kind of squeamish around needles, ones used for inking skin or not.

He likes the classics, she notes, and he steers clear of paperbacks and anything written or published within the last fifty-or-so years. Lucy is fond of the classics too, okay, but she also enjoys a YA novel every once in a while. (Which is more like every week, but what_ever_.) But this guy is unlike any other reader she's ever seen. It's weird.

Classical Tat Boy, as she's dubbed him, is usually dressed in boring sweaters of various uninteresting colors and crisp, ironed oxford shirts under them. He wears coordinating slacks, and sometimes nice jeans, with red Converse. Every once in a while she'll see him in a red beanie, a button up with a jean jacket pulled over it, still jeans, and his constant sneakers—those never change.

He normally holes himself up in the far corner of the bookstore where it's dark aside from the dim lamplight after he's done browsing. He doesn't come out for about an hour or so, at which point he approaches the register and usually buys whatever book he'd been perusing.

But today is a Saturday, and she's never seen Classical Tat Boy there on Saturdays, so she's beyond surprised when she walks in and there he is, looking over the mystery section. He isn't dressed in a sweater today, but a plaid button up with his jean jacket. His beanie is missing, and it gives her a clear view of how messy his blue hair really is.

It's not completely out of the norm for him to be looking in that section, she tells herself. Mystery seems to be one of his favorite genres, if his past buys are any indication.

Lucy ignores the strange feeling in her stomach and waves at the owner, who's perched behind his desk as usual. She slips into the mystery section as well, making it a point to ignore the boy only about five feet from her. In fact, she gets so absorbed in reading the titles and trying to figure out which book to purchase, that she doesn't notice a hand reaching for the same one she is. Their fingers brush and Lucy jumps at the contact, pulling her hand back immediately and turning to look at him with wide eyes.

Classical Tat Boy is smiling shyly at her (which is _so not _the cutest thing ever, no way) and he rubs the back of his beck with his hand. "Uh, sorry. I didn't know you were going for that one."

"It's okay!" she replies, too loudly and too fast. She wants to slap herself. "I-I mean, I thought you didn't usually go for the modern stuff?"

A strange look passes over his face, and she sees something stir in his eyes, but then it's gone just as fast. "Ah well, I've heard that Kemu Zealon is a pretty decent author so I thought I'd give it a try. See if I like it and all," he gives her a cheeky smile, "I didn't know that you were paying attention to me other than the occasional innocuous glance."

Lucy knows she's blushing, and it's beyond embarrassing. "U-um, well, I just…I'm super observant? Not that I've been watching you! I just…I've noticed."

Classical Tat Boy's smile becomes nervous, and he looks away. "Yeah uh, actually, I've…sort of noticed you too. Your reading preferences, that is," he corrects almost immediately. "You spend a lot of time in the romance section—which is severely dwindling in the good plot department, if you ask me—and you like the mystery section too. You have pretty good taste," he admits.

She looks down at her boots and shrugs. "You like classical literature, and you've never even picked up a book written in this decade. Well," she glances at the volume on the shelf, "aside from today."

"I'm Jellal," he says, suddenly, thrusting his hand out. "I like horror too. In books, not movies or reality."

She smiles. "Lucy, and I know. Good choice buying that one you did last week. I hear it's supposed to keep you up at night."

Jellal nods. "You…wouldn't mind getting a coffee with me, would you? I mean, I just thought—"

"I'd love to," she interjects. "I'm free right now, if you want to go."

He offers his arm to her. "Then let's get going."

.

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If there's one thing to know about Levy McGarden, it's that she doesn't like people messing with her comms, cameras, computers, and her friends. Anyone willing to disturb those things would also have to be willing to go to war. Or have a deathwish. She may be short, but she's never been out of the game. In fact, she's always had an advantage, because people usually underestimated her.

It's three days after their altercation with The Prominence that she realizes something's off. The frequency is different, there's off clicking at seemingly random times, and then she can't get ahold of Lucy on Wednesday. She brushes it off the first couple of times, but then their connection times out for over half an hour on Thursday morning.

She immediately suspects Angel, because Angel doesn't like them because she hates Lucy or something, and the girl has done things like this before. So she confronts Angel and politely asks her to _cut it out and stop interfering with their comms already _but no dice. Her sister sneers and tells Levy that she's given up messing with them for now, and even swears on her prized Couture white feather bolero that she hasn't done jack shit.

Of course, it could also be Minerva, because Minerva hated everyone equally but for some reason had a special place of abhorrence in her black heart for Levy and her friends. But the witch has taken a shine to Yukino lately and has been torturing her for the past few weeks, and it didn't look like things had changed. So she was out too.

Saturday morning, the clicking becomes more frequent and that's when Levy realizes it's Morse code. Which is insane, honestly, because apparently _somebody _is just itching to make her life miserable. She translates the same message five times before concluding that it's a loop and probably nothing else is going to come through.

And did she mention that the message is a fucking riddle? No? Well it is. But she's smart and aced her decoding classes, so understanding it is kind of a breeze. It's an address, in a part of town that has a less-than-stellar reputation, and she is not looking forward to going. However, if she wants to figure out who's been screwing with her setup (which she is very proud of, and doesn't like touched, thank you very much) then she has no other choice.

The cryptic message instructed her to come alone.

Levy huffs and stares at the rundown apartment building in front of her, the destination of the message, and taps her foot against the pavement. The clacking sound of her flats slapping the cement echoes off the empty buildings and creates an eerie effect that the whole neighborhood seems to emit. The message didn't tell her to do anything else but to come to this location, but there's nothing here and she's starting to get impatient.

Juvia left the school to get some tea five hours ago, and Lucy went out shortly afterwards to visit the bookstore she likes. She hasn't heard from either of them since, and it's slightly worrying. But she brushes it off because they're still teenage girls, and sometimes they get distracted or time gets away from them.

So she reluctantly plops down on the front steps of the apartment building and props her elbows on her knees and chin in her palms. She sits and waits for fifteen minutes before pulling her cell out of her bag and dialing Lucy's number.

It goes straight to voicemail, which she finds unsettling because Lucy _always _has her phone on unless it dies, and Levy knows for a fact that the blonde charged it completely before she left. So she calls Juvia's mobile, and to her relief, it rings. And rings, and rings, and rings. Her voicemail finally picks up as well, but Levy doesn't bother leaving a message.

Something is wrong, really wrong and her friends are caught up in whatever it is. She has to call Erza, or Headmistress Porlyusica, or _somebody because something is definitely not right. _

In her defense, she does hear the heavy footfalls behind, she does see the horrible smirk on the guy's face—he has like _a dozen facial piercings heaven help her_, but he's huge. He's much bigger than she is and easily overpowers her. He holds her to his chest in what could be considered a loving embrace if he wasn't actually _almost crushing her to death _and presses a rag soaked with something over her nose and mouth.

_Is that chloroform? Dammit it is, Lucy would have the greatest temper tantrum known to man, _she thinks as the world starts to blur and her knees go weak.

It was a fucking setup.

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**part four: keep your friends close**

(_i know you've heard this all before, but we're just hell's neighbors_)

—

Erza doesn't like practical jokes. She doesn't like pranks or anything of that sort, and is usually firmly against playing them on people. No one hardly dares to target her either, because she'll be sure to rip them a new one or give them the lecture of a lifetime.

So she is decidedly not pleased with the disembodied voice at the other end of the line.

"_If you ever want to see your friends again, then you'll come_," it informs her, "_and come alone. If you don't, the pretty blonde one becomes target practice, and the blue ones get to try out what it's like to take a swan dive off the tallest building in the city_."

She scowls into the mirror and slams a fist down on the bureau. "If this is some kind of prank, I would like to remind you of what happened _last time _you tried to pull a stunt like this."

It had been in their sophomore year that some of their more adventurous sisters decided it would be fun to 'kidnap' Levy and see how their team worked without her. It was the middle of the night when they received the call saying that Levy's captors would kill her if they didn't find them first. They had two hours, and in those two hours the other three girls almost destroyed the assembly hall and gardens before finding her fifteen minutes before the deadline. Afterwards, they made sure no one would pull anything like that again, even though it got them stable duty for a month.

"Lucy knows _exactly _what happened between you and Midnight, Angel, if that's you. And if this is Minerva, then just know that your father's money can't get you out of _everything_," Erza keeps her voice level, but the person on the other end just laughs.

"Sorry Titania, but this time it's the real deal. No more games, alright? If you ever want to see them again," the voice trails off, "be there. Nine o'clock sharp, or they burn."

The line goes dead, and Erza throws her phone on her bed. The voice was obviously male, unfamiliar to her. Well, mostly. She thinks she's heard it before but she can't recall where. But her sisters also friends that are boys, and she can't really believe that anyone would actually kidnap her girls.

She scowls at her reflection, and storms out of her shared room and down the hall. It isn't Angel, and it isn't Minerva—the former because she tried desperately to keep that specific bit of information from finding its way to the Headmistress, and the latter because she's cruel but her traps her more elaborate.

Erza pounds on the door in front of her until the girl on the other side flings it open. Glasses askew, face livid, and hair dripping wet, Evergreen glares at her self-proclaimed 'rival' and huffs. "Titania," she seethes, "what the _hell _do you want?"

The redhead pushes past her and into the room, ignoring the startled expression of Lisanna Strauss (Evergreen's roommate) and crosses her arms. "Where are they, Evergreen? What boy of the week do you have threatening them and calling me?"

Evergreen's sneer morphs into a look of confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Do _not_," Erza takes a step forward, "_play with me_. The jig is up, the game is over, now where are you _keeping them_?"

The brunette throws her hands in the air and screeches. "You're finally off your rocker, Erza! For one thing, I don't know _what the hell _you're on about, and two, I've been here with Lisanna all day!"

Erza falters at the sincere yet brutal tone of voice. "Y-You mean you don't have Lucy, Juvia, and Levy locked up somewhere?"

"_Please,_" Evergreen rolls her eyes and focuses on her manicure, "not my style. And you know I've been on my best behavior since the Hair Dye Incident."

Erza's brows furrow, and her arms fall to her sides. Ever looks back at her, expression troubled. "Wait, what about the others?"

Lisanna leaps to her feet. "Are they okay?"

"They're—" she stops and looks at the other girl. Sometimes she heard voices on the other end of the line when Lisanna or Mirajane called their brother. Male voices, usually, probably friends of Elfman. She could always tell who was who even if she didn't know their names, because they were vastly different.

But there was a smooth one, obviously belonging to someone with a cool persona. Someone who was laidback and easygoing, or at least that's what people assumed he was.

She'd heard it today, just a few minutes ago.

"Someone took them. I don't know who, or why, or what they want, but I believe them. They want me to come alone, to a place in Magnolia at nine tonight. If I don't, they'll kill the girls."

Evergreen and Lisanna are alert immediately. "You're sure it's not a prank or something?" Ever asks, voice hard. She may not always get along with the great Titania, but these girls are still her sisters. They've known each other for years, and she's not about to let them die.

Erza shakes her head. "Lucy and Juvia have dirt on Angel, and Minerva wouldn't stoop to this level. She's a 'refined, classy type of bitch.' Or that's what Lucy says, anyway. The caller was male, and he sounded familiar."

"You just came off that job—" Lisanna starts, but Evergreen waves a hand at her.

"They caught all the guys, Lis. This is different," she narrows her eyes. "Should we alert Headmistress Porylusica?"

The redhead grabs her arm. "No, no you can't. They said not to tell her. I have to go alone, I can't tell the Headmistress or the police, and I have to be there on time. If I want to go, I have to leave soon."

Evergreen crosses her arms and gives her a hard stare. "You completely sure about this, Titania? It could just be some whackjob enemy of the Academy's—the girls could have already taken care of him by now."

"Then wouldn't they have called? Besides, I don't think that's the case," Erza turns to leave. "You can't tell _anyone, _do you hear? We can't risk it."

She doesn't slam the door on her way out. Erza Scarlet never has to.

.

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.

Lucy comes to and cringes. There is _polyester _over her eyes, she can _tell. _Not polyester, _anything _but that. Her hands and feet are bound, but she's not gagged. Good, she can give her captors a piece of her fucking mind. She'd been on a nice coffee maybe-date with a cute boy who likes books and the next thing she knew it was lights out. She's going to roast these idiots alive. Or drug them and then tie them up in a nondescript warehouse and leave them there for like a week with barely any food while she feasts like a queen in front of them.

She doesn't hurt everywhere—just her neck—which is a plus considering the fact that the place she's being held in smells like a swamp. It's musty and old and in _desperate _need of dowsing with like, six or seven cans of Febreeze.

Her captors had also tied her up with rope, apparently, which is honestly kind of a downer. Knots took longer to get out of than zip ties. Unfortunately for her, these guys were smart. She can't wait to hit them over the head with the chair she's sitting on.

It's late, she can tell because she's kind of starving as she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast because her lunch date was rudely interrupted. She hopes they didn't take Jellal too. See, this is why she doesn't do the dating thing.

Lucy freezes when she hears shuffling next to her, and her fingers twitch at the faint moans.

"Hello? Is anyone else there?"

She's even more baffled to hear Levy quietly calling out. "Levy? Is that seriously you?"

A pause in the shifting. Then—

—"_Lucy_?"

The blonde sighs in relief and resumes her attempts to undo the knots keeping her in place. "It really is you. Good. Well, not good, but. Look, I'm kind of stuck—can you cut me loose?"

"Well," Levy says slowly, "I'd really like to, but I'm tied to a chair."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Guys?"

"_Juvia?" _they ask incredulously.

She laughs nervously and shrugs, not that they can see it. "Um, hi? Juvia has been awake the whole time, apparently they got to her before you. There are four of them, she thinks. We're somewhere down near the tracks, probably on the wrong side of them too."

Lucy would blink in disbelief if she could, but she chooses to keep her eyes closed because _polyester. _"You're talking in third person again, Juvia," she says.

"I-it's because Juvia is under a lot of stress right now!"

Levy clears her throat. "Anyway, Juvia's right. I saw the building, and we're definitely in the wrong side of town. The tracks are just a block or so away, too. It's mostly abandoned down here, it'd take days to find us."

"Well that's certainly bright news," Lucy grunts as she struggles with the rope. "Wait just a minute—you _saw _the building? You were conscious?"

"Someone has been messing with the comms ever since The Prominence case," Levy sighs, "they left me a message, and I came here to find out who it was. I tried calling you two but you wouldn't pick up, then some scary guy got me with chloroform," she ignores Lucy's groan and continues, "_And anyway, _where _were _you both? You had me worried sick."

Juvia smiles apologetically. "Sorry Levy, someone was tailing me and I ran into him. Literally. I don't remember much after that."

"This is all so _cliché_," Lucy whines. "I apologize for not picking up. I was on a date and the next thing I know…I'm tied to a chair with a cheap piece of cloth over my eyes. Erza's gonna be sad she missed the party for sure."

"Wait, you were on a _date_?"

Lucy huffs. "_Yes, _but we'll save that for later. Do either of you know what the hell they want?"

Silence.

"Sorry," Juvia offers.

"Not a clue," Levy sighs.

Someone's stomach grumbles loudly, and they all try to ignore it in favor of getting free.

"They have guns," Juvia informs them in a light tone of voice. "I heard them before they left. Or at least, I think they left. It's awfully quiet out there."

Lucy groans. "Double shit."

The three of them struggle for a few minutes in silence, and a train whistle blows from somewhere outside. There's not a sound coming from anywhere else in the building other than the occasional ominous creak and groan. It's enough to set them ever more on edge than they already are.

"I regret even leaving the Academy this morning," the blonde intones, and the other two girls agree. "Totally not worth it."

Juvia manages to slip one of the knots around her wrists. "Do you think they're going to question us? Or just kill us?"

"Torture is always an option too," Levy adds dejectedly. "They could have cameras set up in here. They could be watching us right now, laughing at us."

Lucy suddenly remembers she has a knife hidden in her right boot.

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.

Erza glances down at her phone. The white numbers tell her that it's 8:59 pm, and she looks back up at the abandoned apartment building. Taking a deep breath of crisp autumn air, she climbs the front steps and walks over to the listing information. She rings the buzzer for Apt. 7B just as the clock on her cell changes to nine. She can hear the bells from Kardia Cathedral chiming away over in the brighter, friendlier part of the city.

The door swings open, and she steps inside, fingers twitching, ready to draw a weapon at any second.

But the halls and stairwell are empty and cold; there's no sign of life at all, not a disturbance anywhere.

They're here, she knows, both her girls and the people that took them. And she's going to find them, all of them.

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**end notes: **even longer than the first chapter good _grief. _and for _six reviews. _


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